Love Me Through This
by tbur
Summary: Ever wonder what it would look like for Paily to happen in South Dakota? No? Cool. Then this fic answers all the questions you didn't ask...Wait. No. That's a terrible way to get people to want to read my story... Paige and Emily are both dealing with a terrible loss when they unexpectedly meet. Will their bonds be strong enough to withstand that which threatens to tear them apart?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: These characters do not belong to me. I do not own Pretty Little Liars. Blah, blah, blah. You've heard it all before...

Ch. 1: The Catch Between Us

I think every life has at least one of those moments. Those moments that make you realize that, before them, you weren't really living your life. You existed within your life, but you did so with no purpose or direction. No enjoyment. Then you're suddenly in _the _moment and you know that everything is about to change. You know it so strongly that you can almost feel a physical shift taking place within yourself. Everything is new. Everything is just beginning. Tonight held one of those moments for me…

I wasn't happy about going to the party. My aunt Veronica told me that I should go. I should make friends with the kids who would be my classmates for my last year of high school. She was kind enough about it but still left no doubt that her 'suggestions' were final and not to be argued with. I was going to let my cousin Spencer take me to the party and I was going to make an effort to make friends. My cousin seemed about as pleased at the prospect of having me as company at the party as I was about going at all. The car ride there was filled with tense silence. I tried to contain my nervous energy while Spencer drove, glowering the entire way and ignoring me as if any of this was my idea.

Truth is, none of this was my idea. In fact, it seemed like so long since I had been given a choice in what happened in my life. Things would definitely be different if I had. I wouldn't be going to this stupid end of the summer party. I wouldn't be in this car with my cousin. I wouldn't be living with my aunt and uncle. And I sure as hell wouldn't be doing all of the above in some tiny hick town in South Dakota. I stared out the window, trying to come to terms with the fact that everything in my life was out of my control…

The party was being held in a large repurposed barn. I could tell that it hadn't been used to house animals or whatever other things barns were normally used for in quite some time. It looked more like a club on the inside. There were lights and a stage and probably over 100 people in attendance. There was a "bar" area that was actually just a keg and a bunch of barrels with drinks sitting on top of them. There were hay bales spread throughout and used as seating, and the ground was covered in fresh straw, which I assumed was what I was smelling. Basically, the barn was like a club, but the club's theme was "barn."

After we stepped into the party but before I had made all my assessments, Spencer, unsurprisingly, ditched me to go look for her friends in the large, tightly-packed crowd. I couldn't have felt more out of place as I watched the only person I knew here disappear into a sea of cowboy boots and belt buckles. I was sure I more than stood out in my black combat boots and leather jacket. I breathed out a sigh and went to go find myself a drink that would, hopefully, make this night not drag on forever.

About an hour later, I was standing with my back to the wall opposite the stage. Most of the people at the party were huddled together in a mob just in front of the stage, jumping, pushing, drinking, and listening to the band play. A few curious glances were tossed my way, but, for the most part, people left me alone to observe the scene in front of me. The people around me seemed to be getting drunker by the minute, and I was vaguely aware of a girl standing and dancing on a barrel to my immediate left when my attention focused on the band. There were three members: a guy on lead guitar and vocals, another guy on bass, and a girl in the back on drums. They were mostly playing covers of rock songs, but there were a few songs I didn't recognize that could have been their own. They were surprisingly good, and I found myself enjoying the music but not quite as much as I was enjoying the view. I was mesmerized by the girl on drums. She had caramel skin and straight black hair that fell around her face and shook with every beat she hit out. She was grinning a sly and mischievous smile that was half-told through her dark eyes. Her body was lean and she had long arms that looked both strong and soft; both capable of carrying a heavy beat and gently caressing…wherever one should want a gentle caress. I cleared my throat and looked away before my mind could wander any further.

Suddenly, the drunk girl dancing on the barrel to my left lost her balance and fell towards me. I reacted quickly and held out my arms as her body crashed into them. Besides the new and unfamiliar weight on my arms, the first feeling I registered was annoyance with this girl who obviously couldn't hold her liquor. I held onto that annoyance for all of two seconds before I actually got a good look at her. She was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. She put the word 'beautiful' to shame. Her skin was darker but not so dark as to hide the blush in her cheeks either from being drunk or from the embarrassment of falling into the arms of a stranger. Probably a little of both. Her eyes were dark brown and…complicated. There was a brightness on the surface, but there was something oddly familiar behind that gleam that I couldn't quite figure out but desperately wanted to. Her hair was black and smooth, flowing down past her shoulders and onto my arm that was holding onto her back. It looked like silky black waves crashing onto a pale beach.

After the initial shock on her face wore off, she transitioned into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. I smiled at her ease to laugh at this new, somewhat awkward, situation and instantly felt more at ease myself. I exhaled the breath I was holding in partly because of the tension I felt trying to make sure I didn't drop this girl and partly because of how gorgeous this girl was. When I took in a breath, I smelled the most glorious mixture of vanilla and, well, obviously alcohol, and I noted it as one of the best things I'd ever smelled.

As I was busy trying to soak in the entirety of this girl, she was busy composing herself and, before long, she spoke. "Hey. I don't believe we've met before. My name's Emily."

She looked at me, expecting a response, probably one that contained my name, but the only response she got from me was my goofy grin growing wider. As the seconds ticked by, she kept the smile on her face but she narrowed her eyes at me playfully and questioningly. _Say something, you idiot! She thinks you're a weirdo just staring at her like that! _I moved my mouth to speak, but nothing was coming out. I couldn't help it. I was speechless. I couldn't focus on words. I was too busy focusing on this girl—Emily—who I was holding. How she looked. How she felt as I held her. _Kind of like how a bride would be held as she was carried into a honeymoon suite, _I told myself before I could rein in the rogue thought. How she sounded. How she smelled. I couldn't help but think that this beautiful assault on all my senses could be complete if only I could taste her—

"PAIGE!"

I was snapped out of my thoughts by Spencer yelling my name and briskly walking over to us. I quickly dropped Emily's legs, which she didn't seem to be expecting because she was off-balance for a second, but I still had my arm around her back and she had hers around my neck, so she regained her footing quickly. I removed my arm from her just as Spencer stopped in front of us. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked back and forth between Emily and me for a while before speaking. "What's going on here?" she asked almost accusingly and I noticed she looked pointedly at me.

_She thinks this is _my_ fault? Relax, cuz. When I pick up girls, I generally don't literally pick them up. _

I was in the middle of rolling my eyes when Emily spoke up. "Spencer, it's okay. I was just dancing and I slipped and she caught me."

Spencer looked at me for confirmation and I just stuck my hands in my jacket pockets. I didn't owe her an explanation. She shook her head, looked at me and said, "Just try not to cause any problems for another 15 minutes. Then we'll leave."

She turned to walk away, but Emily grabbed her arm. "Wait. You know her?"

Spencer sighed. "Emily, this is my cousin Paige. Paige, this is Emily. Now come on. Hannah and Aria are waiting for us," Spencer said to Emily and headed back into the crowd.

Emily started to follow until turning back around with a big smile on her face. "It was nice to meet you, Paige. Thanks for catching me."

"Anytime," I replied as my goofy grin turned into a smirk. _Are you flirting with your cousin's friend?_

"Ah, so you _can _speak."

I shrugged. "The ability comes and goes." _Okay. _Why _are you flirting with your cousin's friend?_

She laughed at the same time that I decided that making her laugh was my new most favorite thing.

"I'll see you around, Paige."

Apparently, hearing Emily say my name was also my new most favorite thing.

"Yes. You will," I said with a wink. _You're winking at her now?! Seriously, get ahold of yourself! Either close both your damn eyes at her or neither!_

Right before she turned back towards the crowd, I saw a shy smile cross her lips and her blush deepen. I reveled in the fact that I had made her blush. _Is it possible to have three new most favorite things?_

I watched Emily disappear into the crowd, sighed, and leaned/fell into the wall behind me, thinking that maybe this new situation I found myself in wasn't going to be so bad after all. Maybe it was going to be great.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks, everybody everybody! I appreciate all of you who have followed, favorited, and reviewed. As for anyone else who is doing none of those things but is keeping up with this fic just the same (I like to call you my ghost readers), I appreciate you too! Now on to the story…

Ch. 2: The Link Between Us

Spencer is true to her word and exactly 15 minutes later, she unceremoniously grabs my arm and pulls me out of Club Barn. I may not have had another chance to speak or flirt with Emily, but I am still happy to put this party behind me.

Once we get into Spencer's car and are headed home, I try to casually do some recon. I keep my gaze out my passenger window and say, "So, Emily…" I let that hang in the air for a moment, not sure how I was planning to finish the thought.

"What about Emily?" Spencer practically snaps at me. I'm not sure where the hostility is coming from. Maybe she thinks that I was going to say something insulting about how drunk Emily was, or maybe Spencer's just naturally this combative. For a second, I wonder if it could be because Spencer knows I'm attracted to Emily and doesn't like the idea, but that can't be it. No one here knows I'm gay. My sexual orientation is not a topic to be discussed with my family or anyone in South Dakota. My dad made sure of that.

_One week ago…_

_I feel exhausted. Like I have been fighting with my dad for months, which wouldn't actually be too far from the truth. I look at the man who has given up on me._

_"__What the hell am I supposed to do in South Dakota? How do you think they'll react to me being gay?" I ask through tears._

_My father clenches his jaw. Every part of him looks tired, defeated. "Maybe you just don't tell anyone about…that."_

_Hurt and confused, I watch him for a couple seconds, waiting for him to take back his previous remark. He only keeps his gaze on the floor. He's a fucking coward. I blink hard and two more tears roll down my cheeks, but those would be the last two I let myself cry over my father. He wants me to hide who I am. He's ashamed of me. He may have already given up on me some time ago, but it isn't until this conversation that I give up on him as well. I go to my room and pack. Suddenly, I can't get far enough away from him._

"Hey!" I jump a little and glance over at Spencer who is looking even more annoyed by my spacing out.

I give her a slightly confused, "Hmm?"

"What about Emily?"

I look back out my window. I can't let on that I am at all interested in Emily or any girl for that matter. That isn't a part of 'straight South Dakota Paige'. "Oh. She just seems nice, that's all."

Spencer softens, maybe catching on to my newly dejected tone. "She is nice. She's one of my best friends."

I nod, having no idea whether or not Spencer is looking at me to see it.

Spencer continues, "Emily…She's not usually like that. Getting drunk and losing control, I mean."

I finally look back at Spencer and with all sincerity say, "I wasn't judging."

She shakes her head. "No. I know. It's just that Emily's been going through a really rough time lately. Her dad was in the army. He died in an attack overseas about a month ago."

I can't describe it, but the way Spencer tells me about Emily's dad almost makes me think that she wants or expects me to do something about it. I'm not even sure how to react. I mean, I'm obviously devastated to learn of Emily's loss. I think back to that darkness that I saw in her eyes as I held her. Of course that's where it was from and why it seemed so familiar. I saw the same darkness in my own eyes every day when I looked in the mirror after my mom died three months ago. I still see it in myself. A constant reminder of the light in my life that has been extinguished. My heart breaks for Emily and how fresh her pain is.

Spencer seems to know well enough to just leave me alone with my thoughts, and the rest of the drive home is spent in silence. When we get back, I go straight upstairs to the guest room. _My room now_, I try to remind myself even though it feels like anything but. Everything in the Hastings house has a proper place at a proper angle, and my room is no exception. I feel like my stuff would disrupt the perfection of the room. More than that, I feel like I am disrupting the perfection of the Hastings family. So I live out of my duffel bag and the few boxes that I brought with me. Maybe I just want to feel like this new arrangement is less permanent than it actually is. Like I could pick up and leave whenever I choose.

After changing out of my clothes, I walk over to the bed that my aunt had clearly made in my absence. This is something she's done all three days that I've been here. Every night, I've taken the top sheet and pushed it down to the foot of the bed before climbing under the comforters. I hate sleeping with a top sheet. When I was younger, I would go to sleep with one over me but wake up to find I had somehow kicked it down in my sleep even though all my other blankets were still covering me head to toe. I liked it better that way. All of the comfort, none of the restriction. Pretty soon, my mom noticed and started making my bed without a top sheet altogether. Thinking of my mom for the second time tonight must have made something inside me snap because soon I am throwing all the stupid decorative pillows across the room, ripping off the sheet, and dropping it into a heap on the floor at the foot of the bed. Breathing slightly heavier from my unexpected outburst, I turn the light off and climb under the comforter. If my aunt insists on making my bed every day, then I will dismantle it every night. This, I tell myself, is something I can control. I fall asleep probably too pleased with my tiny, petulant rebellion.

I wake up the next morning to a knock at my door. Before I have a chance to rub the sleep from my eyes, Spencer is peeking her head in. "Hey." She seems more hesitant than usual, and I see her eyes flick to the sheet and pillows that are strewn across the bedroom floor. "I was going to head into town soon. I was wondering if you'd like to come with me."

I roll my eyes at the offer and lay my head back down, staring up at the ceiling. "Let me guess, your mom is making you get me out of the house again?"

"Actually, no. Inviting you was my idea this time."

Well, this is an interesting development, but I'm not willing to accept the offer so quickly. "Why? You weren't exactly thrilled with me playing tag-along last night."

"That's true, but…I just figured you could come and meet my friends."

I lift my head back up and look at her. "Why?"

"So that you could maybe start the school year tomorrow with friends too. Or at least other people you know."

I quirk my eyebrow at Spencer, but she sticks to her story. _God, I must have seemed more pathetic than I thought last night._ As much as I don't want the pity, I take her up on her offer. I want to pick something up from town anyway.

"Town" consists of a tiny grocery store, a diner, a bar, a gas station, a church, and a population in the triple digits. To get anything else that you might need, such as fun or a life, you would have to go to "the next town over."

Spencer parks on the street in front of the diner. I tell her to go ahead inside and that I'll meet up with her soon. She looks hesitant but nods and goes inside as I jaywalk to the gas station across the street. I step inside and hear a jingle bell alerting the clerk to my entrance. I look towards the register and see her. The drummer girl from the party. The one I couldn't take my eyes off of until Emily literally fell into my arms. The girl is mindlessly drumming a couple of pens against the register and doesn't even look up at me until I am right across the counter from her.

"I need a pack of 27's," I say with all the confidence I can muster. I'm still only 17, but I had been successful at scoring cigarettes almost every time I tried back home in New York.

She looks me over for a second. "Sure thing. Right after I see your ID."

"Darn. I must've forgotten that at home," I say as I pat my pockets but make no real effort to look for much less produce an ID.

An unimpressed look settles on her face. "Whatever. I know your cop friends are bored as hell in this town, but you can tell them to stop shipping minors in to try to catch me in a sting. It's not going to work. Sorry, narc."

I bristle at that word. 'Narc' is one of the worst things you can be called where I come from, but I move past it and try another approach. "Hey. You're that drummer girl from the party last night," I say with a hint of question in my tone that belies the fact that I was staring at her for a borderline creepy amount of time and would now know her face or her arms anywhere.

The slightest bit of interest flickers across her features at the new direction our conversation has taken. "You were at the party?" she asks while looking intently at my face, trying to figure out if she had seen me last night.

"Yeah. You guys were really good. Being in South Dakota and hearing that there's going to be a live band, I thought you would be…"

"Shitty?" she finishes for me.

I laugh. "I was going to say country."

She scoffs. "Same difference."

I smile at her, not willing to argue. I was, after all, more than pleasantly surprised that I wasn't dragged to some sort of hoe down last night.

"So," she continues, "where are you from?"

"New York."

She gives me a totally shocked and impressed look as if I had told her I came from the moon. A second later, she schools her expression. I can tell that she's not used to letting people in on how she's really feeling. As soon as her face is set back to indifference, she asks, "So what brings you to South Dakota? Besides what must be some of the worst luck in the world."

I smile and nod. "Bad luck and family," is what I tell her.

"Family? Anybody I know?" she asks in a joking tone, and I assume the joke is that everybody knows everybody here.

"Maybe. You know Spencer?"

She lets out a sharp breath through her nose. "Oh yeah. I know Spencer all right." She looks me up and down. "Another Hastings in town, huh? God help us."

"I'm not a Hastings," I say with a harshness that even I was not expecting.

She looks at me curiously, but doesn't shy away. "Then what are you?"

"I'm a McCullers."

"I see. That's _much _better than being a Hastings," she says teasingly, and I am grateful that she stopped things from becoming tense after my outburst. She stares at me for a few more seconds before turning around and walking towards the wall of cigarettes that are now in front of her. She takes a pack, turns back around, and tosses them onto the counter. I smile and make a move for my money, but she reaches over the counter and grabs my arm before I can get my hand in my jean pocket. "A new customer's first pack is always on the house," she says and then whispers, "It's how I keep 'em coming back to me."

For a moment I'm frozen in place, my left hand awkwardly reaching for my pocket. All the inappropriate thoughts from the party about her strong arms and the ways in which she could use them to make me come undone come rushing back as she holds onto my arm and starts rubbing her thumb back and forth over my skin. I swallow in a way that I'm sure is both audible and visible and try to joke, "I thought you keep them coming back by being the only gas station within 30 miles."

She smiles like she's just proven something and removes her hand from my arm. "That too. Now don't go telling everybody my business secrets, _McCullers_. I'll keep your secret if you'll keep mine." She nods her head in the direction of my cigarettes, but I know the secret she's talking about has nothing to do with my smoking.

I look at her nervously but nod my head. Holding up my pack of 27's, I say, "Thanks for this, uh—"

"Shana," she supplies.

"Okay. Thanks, Shana," I throw over my shoulder as I quickly head back out towards the street. Once outside, I take a few deep breaths. I'm already feeling like pretending to not be gay isn't going to work out, and now I have to go spend time with Spencer and company, which includes Emily. _Emily_. Just the thought of her ties my stomach in knots. Yeah, this whole 'straight South Dakota Paige' thing was definitely doomed from the start.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks again to everyone reading this story! Switching things up a bit with Emily's perspective...

Ch. 3: The Questions Between Us

Emily's POV

I glance back and forth between Aria and Hanna. A moment of silence is rare when the three of us are together, but apparently we're all too preoccupied to bother with the present company. Aria's sitting next to me in our regular booth at the diner, furiously typing on her phone. Spencer, Hanna, and I think she has a new boyfriend, but Aria is always quick to shut down the line of questioning we try to follow with. I'm not too worried about it. She'll tell us all about it when she's ready.

Across from me, Hanna lets out an exaggerated sigh and my eyes settle on her. She looks at the time on her phone, then she turns around in the booth to look towards the door of the diner, then back to the table and the time on her phone. She shoots me a look of disappointment and impatience, which I smile at because I know her face and her mannerisms too well to be fooled into believing she's actually annoyed. In fact, she's practically giddy with this unique situation we've found ourselves in.

Spencer's late for our usual brunch get-together, and Spencer is almost never late. Hanna, ever the one to point out how boring this town is and how it's always the same old-same old, is obviously excited to hear the story behind Spencer's tardiness and to give her a hard time about it. I can't really blame her. If I had a dollar for every time Spencer gave Hanna the "when you're late, you're disrespecting the people who set aside some of their own time to spend with you" speech, I'd have enough money for some of those high-end noise cancellation headphones that I'd use to block out their bickering. I love my friends and I wouldn't trade any of them for anything, but sometimes I wonder how we manage not to kill each other some days. Just as I start to wonder which of us would make it out of a "there can be only one" scenario, the door to the diner opens and in walks Spencer. Hanna lifts up a little to look over her side of the booth towards Spencer, then settles back in, the corners of her mouth beginning to creep up in anticipation. I shake my head and smile to myself. _This should be interesting. _

Spencer arrives at the booth and motions for Hanna to slide over and make room for her to sit. Hanna just looks up at Spencer and crosses her arms in front of her chest. Drawing out each word, she says, "Well, well, well. Look who _finally _decided to show up."

"I'm sorry I'm a few minutes late. Something just came up last minute," Spencer says as if that explanation will placate Hanna. Obviously, she's underestimating how long Hanna has been waiting for a moment like this. A moment to finally knock the almighty Spencer Hastings off her soap box for once.

Hanna shakes her head at Spencer, grabs her phone, lights up the screen, and holds it up a few inches from Spencer's face. "Twelve minutes. You're twelve minutes late. Tell me, what could have possibly come up that was more important than _our time_," Hanna asks while gesturing around the table to herself, me, and Aria, who seems to have finally realized that something's happening and looks up from her phone. "I mean, I don't know about you girls, but I'm feeling awfully _disrespected_. What about you, Emily? Aren't you feeling _disrespected_?"

Hanna raises her eyebrows at me, expecting me to corroborate her indignation. Unable to keep a straight face, I slowly shake my head. A gesture that says that I'm not going to get into it with those two.

Spencer looks annoyed at having her own lecture used against her. "Shut up and move over, Hanna."

Hanna huffs at Spencer's tone and dismissal of her attempt at revenge but slides across the bench to let Spencer sit down anyways. Aria smiles at the two, getting a kick out of their little tiff, and asks, "So, Spencer, why _are _you late?"

We all look at Spencer expectantly. She picks up her menu and glances as it while she replies, "I thought I'd invite Paige to eat with us."

Aria nods, Hanna shoots up to peer back over the booth to search for Paige, and I…I get butterflies in my stomach for a reason that I don't quite understand. Before I get the chance to mull it over, Hanna, while still frantically searching the diner with her eyes, speaks up, "She's here?! Where is she?"

"She went across the street to the gas station but said she'd be right in."

Hanna sits back down and practically starts bouncing in her seat in anticipation. This day is turning out to be quite exciting for one Hanna Marin. First, she gets the rare opportunity to make Spencer eat her words. Then, she gets to meet the infamous "outsider" that moved into the Hastings' spare bedroom under mysterious circumstances. Truth is, Spencer already explained the circumstances to us as best she could, not knowing the whole story herself. Her parents explained that her uncle Nick had been having a hard time after Paige's mom passed away, and that Spencer's mom had offered to help her little brother out by giving Paige a place to stay while he "got himself together." That was all Spencer's parents had told her, but one night she was eavesdropping on a particularly heated discussion between her parents and she heard her dad say something about Paige being "troubled" and "what's going to happen when she starts acting out and getting into fights here?" This little nugget of information was especially exciting to Hanna who had since been fantasizing about having Spencer's "badass" cousin here and insisting that "shit's about to get real!"

Out of the four of us, Hanna had always been the most into gossiping and milking every juicy secret out of this mostly dry town, so I'm not surprised by her eagerness to meet this newcomer. I'm only concerned that Hanna is setting herself up for disappointment when the real Paige doesn't live up to her expectations. Not that I know anything about the real Paige, but I'm pretty sure Hanna's idea of her involves gang membership, face tattoos, and a cocaine addiction.

"—from New York, the crime capital of the world!" Hanna exclaims, pulling me out of my thoughts. Aria is wide-eyed and Spencer is smiling but shaking her head, which tells me I missed out on another one of Hanna's famously inaccurate but passionate rants. Suddenly, Hanna looks to me. "You met her. What was she like?"

"Um. I don't know. She seemed…nice," I offer.

Spencer lets out a small laugh and Hanna and I look to her. She sees the "what was that?" look in our eyes, focuses on me, and says, "Nothing. It's just that that's pretty much exactly what she said about you."

Hanna's smile drops from her face and she whines, "Nice? I didn't get to meet her and you did and all you have to say about her is she's _nice_?" Hanna says the word 'nice' like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

I think about Hanna's question. Is that all I have to say about Paige? It's certainly not all I _could_ say about her. I could tell Hanna that Paige was charming, yet genuine. That I was instantly drawn to her the moment I looked into her eyes and watched as her expression changed from annoyance to what appeared to be awe. That the first time she smiled at me, my breath caught in my throat. That Paige was strong and I felt safer and more at peace in her arms than I had anywhere else in a long time. That when she dropped my legs, I faltered not only because it was unexpected, but also because she was making me weak in the knees. That when she winked at me, I felt like something awakened deep within my stomach. That all of these thoughts about Paige had been haunting and confusing me all night and all morning. I _could _tell Hanna these things, but I know I really can't. She wouldn't understand. How could she when even I don't understand?

Hanna looks at me hopefully, but I just shrug my shoulders. She sighs, disappointed for a second before she remembers that Paige is coming here and that she'll be able to get all the dirt for herself soon enough. Hanna faces the diner door once again just in time to see Paige walking in. Paige looks around and I study her as all those confusing feelings come rushing back (as if they had actually gone away in the first place). Hanna whistles loudly and yells, "New York! Over here!" as she waves her arms. Everyone in the diner looks at Hanna then Paige, and I can see the embarrassment creep into her body language as she slumps her shoulders and puts her head down as she walks over to our booth.

Paige stops at the end of our booth and I get up, grabbing an unused chair from an adjacent table and setting it at the end of ours for her to sit on. She smiles at me gratefully and it takes every ounce of self-restraint I have to stop myself from grinning like an idiot.

Paige sits and Spencer begins the introductions. "Guys, this is Paige. Paige, this is Hanna, Aria, and you remember Em—"

"Say something!" Hanna interrupts, and we all look at her, shocked and confused.

Paige's eyes go wide and she looks to Spencer for help with whatever is happening. Never one to be able to figure out Hanna's motives, Spencer just shakes her head, shrugs her shoulders, and gives Paige an apologetic look. Paige looks nervously at Hanna. "Uh…What do you want me to say?"

Hanna looks obviously deflated and frowns. "Why don't you sound funny?"

Paige, god bless her, looks like she's trying her best to keep up but is failing miserably. "I'm sorry?"

"You're from New York, right? Why don't you talk like it? You know, _like-uh New York-uh_," Hanna says the last part in one of the most over-the-top and possibly offensive New York accents I've ever heard.

Paige bursts out laughing. "Sorry," she says when she sees that Hanna is not amused. She fights down her laughter before continuing, "I don't know. I grew up all over the place. We didn't move to New York until I was eight. I guess my accent was already formed by then."

Hanna considers this. "Oh. So you're not a real New Yorker then," she concludes.

I look at Paige and can tell by her brows furrowing that she is not too pleased with this assessment. "I spent almost the past ten years there, which is more than half of my life, so I can assure you that I _am _a real New Yorker."

Hanna looks at her skeptically. "Really? How many drugs have you experimented with?"

My eyebrows shoot up at the random question and I would try to intervene if Paige's shocked face wasn't so cute.

"What?" Paige asks.

Hanna moves on to the next question. "Ever been affiliated with any gangs?"

Paige is speechless and clearly wondering where these questions are coming from. I look to Spencer in a silent plea to help her cousin out, but she's just staring at Hanna open-mouthed. I'm not sure if it's because of the line of questioning or Hanna's use of the word 'affiliated'.

"Has anyone ever tried to mug you or do you like to do the mugging? On average, how many hookers would you see on a daily basis?" Hanna rapid-fires the inquiries as an older couple walks past our table towards the exit and gives us all dirty looks.

"Christ, Hanna," Spencer spits out in an admonishing tone. She turns to address Paige. "I'm sorry about her. The part of her brain that is responsible for showing any tact is nonexistent."

Paige nods, still not fully understanding what just happened and Hanna tries to defend herself. "What? I just wanted to get a feel for what life in New York City is like."

Paige gives a hesitant smile. "Not as interesting as you make it sound, I'm afraid."

Hanna reluctantly gives up on her quest for the juicy details as the waitress arrives at our table to take our orders. When she leaves, it stays quiet for a while, but soon enough we are laughing and casually chatting, although Paige is noticeably absent from our conversation. She seems a little wary every time one of us tries to engage her, and she physically tenses whenever Hanna starts addressing her. When the food arrives, Paige excuses herself to go wash up, and as soon as she's up from the table, I glare at Hanna.

Hanna quickly catches my look and asks, "What?"

"You know what."

"I was just trying to show an interest in her life!"

"That wasn't an interest. That was an interrogation," Spencer replies.

"Yeah, Han. I think you broke her," Aria says, looking in the direction Paige went with a concerned expression.

"Well, excuse me for trying to be friendly!" Hanna dramatically throws her arms up in exasperation.

"Next time why don't you just ask about hobbies or something," I suggest, then add, "and no. Drugs and hookers don't count as hobbies."

"You never know…" Hanna responds. I'm about to lay into her when Paige walks back up to the table.

"Hey. Were you all waiting for me to start eating?" she asks as she takes her seat. We look around at each other somewhat guiltily. "Oh," she says, "you were all just talking about me, weren't you?"

"We were just making sure that everyone would be on their best behavior for the rest of the day," I state while looking pointedly at Hanna.

Hanna rolls her eyes and looks at Paige. "I'm sorry about earlier. For getting a little…intense," she says with what could almost qualify as sincerity.

Paige just smiles at Hanna. "No worries. It caught me off guard a little, but it was kind of funny. You actually remind me of some of my friends back home. You have a very "big city" soul."

Hanna beams at this comment, and just like that, the atmosphere at our table is completely different. We all spend the rest of the time eating and sharing stories with each other. When we all get up to leave, I can't help but pull Paige aside.

"Hey. I really do hope that Hanna didn't scare you too much today. She means well. She just—"

"It's okay, Emily. Honestly. Like I said, it was funny. I'm glad Spencer invited me today. Meeting Hanna and Aria was interesting, and seeing you again was…Well, I'm glad I got to see you again."

There were those damn butterflies in my stomach again. "Yeah. Same here."

"And I'll see you again tomorrow."

"Yes. You will," I say, remembering how she had winked as she said the exact same thing to me at the party last night. Wishing I knew what that had meant. If it had meant anything at all. At that moment, for some reason, I glance down at her lips for a second and then quickly back up to her eyes as a smirk forms on her face. "Okay, well, see you tomorrow then," I add and quickly start walking out of the diner before I am able to make more of a fool of myself. I get into my car and silently chastise myself for making things so weird. _What the hell is going on with me?_


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Once again, thanks to every single one of you reading this story, and special thanks to my triple F-ers (Follow-Favorite-Feedback). This is a shorter chapter than my usual (which I realize is already pretty short), but I really didn't want to try to add any more to it and risk it becoming clunky. Plus, I had this part done and wanted to update. Hope you enjoy!

Ch. 4: The Fantasy Between Us

Emily's POV

_Something startles me awake and I abruptly sit up in a confused stupor. I look around and it takes me a minute before I realize where I am. I'm in an upper room in the Montgomery's barn. The same one that the end of summer party was held in last night. _Was it just last night? It seems like longer ago than that.

_It's dark, but there's a soft, somewhat eerie glow illuminating parts of the room. I continue to take in my surroundings. My friends are here with me, but they're all sleeping soundly. Aria's tiny body is curled up into itself on a chair across from me. Spencer and Hanna are on the floor a few feet away from me. They're lying perpendicular to each other with Hanna's legs sprawled over Spencer's just below her knees. The sight of the three of them fills me with a much-needed sense of calm before I'm overcome with the feeling that something's missing. I look to the couch behind me and see that there is a pillow on one end and a blanket that is pulled back, but no one is there. _So more like some_one_ is missing.

_We must be having one of our frequent sleepovers at Aria's, but, if that's the case, then it has to be at least Friday night. I try to think over the last couple of days. The last thing I remember clearly is Tuesday when we had our brunch at the diner and then I spent the rest of the day with Hanna. Everything else is hazy. I don't remember anything about Wednesday, which seems odd since it was supposed to be the first day of my senior year, or either of the subsequent two days leading up to tonight. I decide to momentarily set aside the mystery of where the last three days went in favor of figuring out why the couch is vacant. I may not remember anything about hanging out or falling asleep here, but somehow I know that I am looking for Paige._

_I get up and quietly make my exit. As I go from the carpet of the room to the hardwood floor of the hall, I register the uncomfortable coolness and wish that I was wearing socks or had a sweatshirt on instead of just the white t-shirt and small pink and yellow flannel shorts that I am wearing for pajamas. I creep towards the stairs at the end of the hall and head down them into the main room. Once I reach the base of the stairs, I see her across the room._

_Paige is leaning up against the wall right next to a barrel. It takes my mind less than a second to attach this familiar placement to a memory and my heart skips a beat. I stand frozen in place for a second before taking a tentative step forward and asking, "Paige? What are you doing down here?"_

_She looks up at me and calmly replies, "Waiting for you."_

_The intensity of her gaze and conviction in her voice cause a chill to run through my body and I instinctively hug my arms around myself. Without prior authorization from my brain, my feet are carrying me over to where she is standing. I lean against the barrel and hold her gaze. "Why?" I breathe out with none of the calm that was in her voice._

_She just looks at me, ignoring my question. For a moment, she lightly bites her bottom lip before asking a question of her own, "You can't stop thinking about me, can you?"_

_I suck in a breath. With every intention of denying it, every intention of lying to her, I start, "Paige-"_

_That's as far as I get though. The next thing I know, Paige grabs the backs of my thighs and lifts me up, setting me down on the barrel so that I'm sitting with my legs apart with her standing between them. She slides her hands from the backs of my thighs to the sides while her thumbs rest on the tops. Our bodies are less than half a foot apart, and I can feel my breaths getting heavier, faster. She keeps her eyes locked on mine and, by some miracle, I am able to hold the eye contact. I feel her start to move her thumbs back and forth on my thighs as she asks, "Why do you try to fight it?"_

_I think about her question. Consider trying to lie to her again, but decide against it. Unable to hold her gaze anymore, I close my eyes and say, barely above a whisper, "I'm scared."_

_I feel her remove her right hand from my thigh. Then her fingers brush past my ear as she buries her hand in my hair. Her palm settles just behind my left ear, and her fingers curl around the back of my head. I open my eyes and see concern etched on her features. "Scared of what?" she asks me in the same low volume._

_For the second time in however long it's been, my line of sight drops down to her lips. It's not just a glance this time though. It's longer. More purposeful. It's a silent answer to her question. I see one corner of her mouth start to lift up. It's not a smirk like I was expecting. It's just a small smile. No. Not just a small smile. It is a small smile that is full of care and understanding. A smile that says she understands my confusion. Understands my fear. That she knows what I'm going through because she's been where I am. I pull my eyes away from her lips and back up to her eyes. If it's possible, I see even more understanding there. Looking into her eyes, I feel like she gets me in a way that no one else ever has. In a way that someone I've known less than a week has no business to. She drops her half-smile, but keeps her expression soft as she says, "You don't need to be afraid, Emily. I'm going to help you. I'll keep you safe."_

_I study her eyes, looking for any hint that I shouldn't trust her. I see none. I believe her. With everything that I am, I believe her, and it shoots a warmth through my body that I had been missing for longer than I care to think about. I know she's telling me the truth, but that still leaves one question. "How?" I ask her._

_She smiles a full smile this time as she leans in slowly and touches her lips to mine. It's cautious and gentle and already I feel safer. Just like my feet moving me towards her before, my lips don't wait for permission from my brain before they start moving against hers. As our kiss deepens, she moves her left hand around my waist and it lands on the small of my back. She uses this new hand position to pull my body impossibly close to hers. I move my right hand to her cheek and gladly reflect on every new point at which are bodies are connected. _

_As I grant her tongue entrance into my mouth, three things occur to me at once. One: Paige is _really _good at this. Because of this fact, any doubt I know I would and possibly should be feeling about this new situation is blocked out by pure, unadulterated enjoyment. Two: I have never kissed anyone with as much desperation as I am kissing her right now. It's not a kiss that I get lost in. Just the opposite. It's a kiss that I am completely focused on putting all of my energy into. As if the second I let up, it will all be over. Never to reoccur. And I refuse to let that happen. Finally, three: no matter how much we pull at each other, I feel as though we cannot get close enough. I want our bodies so close that we completely engulf each other. _Is that a weird thing to think? It doesn't matter. It's not as if any of what's happening right now is normal anyways. Not for me at least.

_Suddenly, Paige moves her hands to my hips. She lifts me slightly and shifts me forward so that my center is pressed against her. I gasp into our kiss before pulling away from her mouth. "Paige. Please. I want you." The words pour out of my mouth with all the desperation that has become the norm for our intense session._

_She gives me that smirk that I expected earlier and didn't know how much I missed until now. She draws her hands slowly to the waistband of my shorts and hooks her thumbs into it. She looks me in the eyes as she begins to pull down-_

My alarm begins blaring in my room, pulling me out of my dream. I quickly turn to my side to shut it off then return to my back. I lie in bed, staring up at my ceiling with wide eyes. _Well, _that _was new._

While doing my best to ignore the delicious discomfort between my legs, I try to think of all the ways that I can tell myself this dream doesn't mean anything. _People have sex dreams all the time. It doesn't necessarily mean they actually _want_ to have sex with the person though, right? There has to be another explanation. I am _not_ gay and the things that were happening in that dream…they were definitely gay. _

My mind flits back to the image of Paige staring at me as she starts to pull down my shorts and the discomfort in my core doubles. I throw my blankets off and shoot out of bed. I need to get ready for the first day of my senior year. I _need _to get ahold of myself.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Wow. It has been so long since I updated this. Sorry, everybody. Thanks to those still interested in this story and to my new readers/followers! Just a reminder: I don't own Pretty Little Liars or any of these characters. Yes, I'm sure. I checked my portfolio just this morning and still nothing... Hope you enjoy this new chapter!

Ch. 5: The Tension Between Us

Paige's POV

This morning could not be going any worse. It's quarter after six, which is half an hour before I had my alarm set for, and I'm already up and going downstairs for some breakfast all because of my unconventional and unwelcome wake-up call almost ten minutes ago. As I near the kitchen, I hear voices but fail to register them until I see Spencer and her friends sitting at the table. As soon as I enter the room, they stop talking and take in my disheveled, pajama-clad form. Hanna, always the one to have something to say about everything, is the first to speak up. "Well, good morning, Sleepyhead. You're looking…" She looks me up and down and seems to consider her options before settling on "kind of homeless."

As much as I am generally amused by her straightforwardness, I have never claimed to be a morning person. After taking in her short skirt, form-fitting top, and her high heels, I respond, "And you're looking…" I pretend to think it over and finish with "kind of slutty." _Have I mentioned that I'm not a morning person?_

"Geez, New York, I was only kidding. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

"No. I _woke up _to a rooster trying to win the award for the most annoying fucking thing in the world."

The four of them share some knowing looks and unsuccessfully try to hide their amusement at my rooster woes.

"What are you all even doing here this early anyways?" I ask. Just the thought of when they must've woken up to get ready and get here by now makes me even more exhausted.

Hanna stays quiet, still looking a little disenchanted with me for my earlier remark, while Aria speaks up this time. "It's the first day of senior year. We're having a celebratory breakfast."

I scoff at them as I grab some orange juice from the refrigerator. "Seriously? Who celebrates _going back_ to school?" I ask before taking a swig straight from the carton.

Spencer walks over to me, grabs a glass from the cupboard, takes the half-gallon of OJ out of my hands, pours it into the glass, and sets it on the kitchen island in front of me with a pointed look before putting the orange juice away. I look from her to the glass a little sheepishly. I hadn't even realized I was drinking from the carton. Or I didn't realize that that's not something considered acceptable in the Hastings home; although, now that I think about it, I should have guessed. Thing is, unless my family was actually sitting and eating around the table, we never used glasses back home in New York. "Fewer dishes," my dad and I would say. I smile at the memory for a second before it just fills me with sadness.

"Well, _I'm_ not here to celebrate. _I'm_ here to give you some much-needed guidance in getting ready for your first day," Hanna says, apparently deciding to talk to me again._ I liked it better when she was pissed at me._

I respond with a simple "No thanks."

"Oh, come on. The fashion choices you make for the first day of senior year follow you for the rest of your life," she somehow says with a straight face. "And I've seen the choices you make for yourself," she mutters the last part with a shake of her head.

Before I have a chance to find out whether or not she was joking—_She better have been joking_—my aunt strides into the kitchen. "Oh, good. You're all here. Good morning, girls."

"Good morning, Mrs. Hastings," Hanna, Aria, and Emily all smile and say at the same time as if they had rehearsed it.

"Good morning, Mom," Spencer says as my aunt opens the fridge and rummages through the contents, pulling out the breakfast essentials.

"'Morning, Aunt Ronnie," I add. My aunt briefly stiffens, pausing in her search as I hear snickers from the three girls still at the table, and Spencer nearly does a spit-take with her coffee. I glance around, slightly confused. Whenever my dad talked about his sister, 'Ronnie' was the name he always used. It didn't occur to me until now that I had never actually heard anyone else use it the whole time I've been here. "Sorry," I mumble, thinking that I may have crossed some line or embarrassed my aunt.

She grabs the last item she needs and closes the refrigerator door before turning to me. "No, Sweetie, it's okay. It's just…" she laughs lightly, "I think your father is the only one who ever calls me that."

I force a smile and nod, silently making a promise to never use 'Ronnie' again. The less I have in common with Nick McCullers, the better.

Aunt Veronica puts her hands on Spencer's and my shoulders and says, "Why don't you girls sit down at the table while I whip us up some breakfast?"

Spencer agrees and starts heading there. "Actually, I should go get ready now," I say as I start backing up towards the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hanna make a move to stand up, so I quickly add "alone," which makes her slump back into her chair while I exit the kitchen.

By the time I am dressed and back in the kitchen, there's a ridiculous amount of food on the table and it all smells delicious. As often as I think that I'll never get used to living here, _this part_, the insanely over-the-top breakfasts, I could definitely get used to. I take the open seat next to Emily, who seems to tense at my presence and scoots her chair away from mine a little. The move is almost imperceptible, but once I notice it, I think about how she's been awfully quiet and hasn't even made eye contact with me once this morning. _That's weird, _I think while I study her in my peripheral vision.

"So, Paige," my aunt starts, pulling my attention from Emily's standoffishness, "have you given any thought to whether or not you'd like to join an extracurricular this year? I think it'd be a great way to acclimate yourself to the school and make new friends," she offers in that familiar tone that tells me, like it or not, I will be doing exactly what she 'suggests' or I will suffer the consequences.

I focus on my plate and poke at the eggs with my fork, shrugging my shoulders and saying, "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

Aria suddenly pipes up with some Hanna-level enthusiasm. "Ooh! You could write for the school newsletter with me! Or you could join oral interp with me and Spencer!"

I begin to laugh off her suggestions, which does not seem to please Aria at all. "Sorry. Um, writing isn't really my thing. Neither is talking."

Aria looks at me in confusion. "Then how do you express yourself?"

_Great. A touchy-feely type. I'm not prepared to deal with this this early in the morning. _"I find other ways to express myself," I offer.

To my right, Emily chokes a little on her water and starts coughing. I glance over to see her looking a little flustered. Her eyes meet mine for the first time that morning as she softly clears her throat. "What about basketball? Do you play?" she asks as if she's both fighting to get the words out and fighting to keep them in at the same time.

_She's being really weird today. _Instead of feeling concerned about her apparent ambivalence toward me this morning, I only find myself feeling intrigued. "I've played before but never on an actual team," I answer.

Emily sets down the fork that she was nervously tapping on her plate and crosses her arms on the table. "You should definitely try out."

Spencer speaks up a little hesitantly. "I don't know, Em. Our girls' team is really good this year. You think Paige has a shot if she's never even officially played for a team before?"

Emily smiles and nods at me excitedly. "If you're really interested, maybe I could even help you train before they hold tryouts."

My mouth goes dry at the thought of spending one-on-one practice time with Emily. I reach for my orange juice and take a sip before responding with a hint of hoarseness in my voice, "I take it you're on the team?"

Hanna takes the opportunity to cut into the conversation. "Emily is the _captain_ of the varsity team. We were so close to a championship last year. Em's totally going to lead us the rest of the way this season."

I'm a little taken aback by Hanna's interest in the subject. "Wow, Hanna. I never would have pegged you for a sports fan."

"I'm really not, but I like to support my girls," Hanna says as she smiles and grabs Aria's and Spencer's hands on either side of her, "and having to sit through a basketball game is a hell of a lot more appealing than going to one of Spencer and Aria's oral interp thingies. Trust me."

Aria removes her hand from Hanna's grasp and gives her shoulder a light swat. Smiling, I look back at Emily. "So when are tryouts?"

She straightens up in her seat and looks so genuinely happy about me considering trying out. Kind of reminds me of a puppy whose ears perk up when someone says the word "treat." _God, she's cute._

"Not until early October, but there are unofficial practices after school every Friday leading up to them. You should go to the one this Friday," she says.

"Okay. I might just do that," I respond. Then, being a terrible person and unable to help myself, I add, "I think I'd really enjoy it if we played for the same team, Em." _What are you doing? Behave yourself! _As I take another sip of my orange juice, I watch Emily closely for any reaction to the double meaning; at the same time, hoping that it went unnoticed by the others at the table.

Emily shifts in her seat a little uncomfortably and starts rubbing her upper arm with the opposite hand. "I, uh—yeah. Me too," she finally gets out.

I smirk at getting a response from her as the house phone starts ringing. Spencer gets up to answer it, but I keep my attention solely focused on Emily. "So Friday, huh?"

Emily smiles and starts to respond when Spencer cuts her off. Covering the mouthpiece and holding the phone out to me, she says, "Uh, Paige, it's for you. It's Uncle…" she hesitates for a moment before somewhat awkwardly finishing, "It's your dad."

I stare at Spencer for a bit while I process what she's saying. I haven't spoken to my dad since I left New York. For a week, he has made no effort to contact me, which has suited me just fine because talking to him is the last thing I've wanted to do. My initial confusion turns to anger as I look at the phone being held out to me and respond, "You can tell him that I don't want to talk to him."

Tension fills the room and a panicked expression crosses Spencer's face at the thought of actually having to relay that message to her uncle. She looks to her mom for some help with what to do. My aunt sighs, but before she has a chance to try to talk me into taking the call, I get up from the table and leave the kitchen, heading through the hall and finally out the front door. I walk around to the side of the house and attempt to calm down. I reach into my pocket, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. My hands are shaking with anger, and by the time I have the cigarette in my mouth and lit, I hear the front door shut and footsteps heading towards me. _Shit._ I tear the cigarette out of my mouth and drop it onto the ground, sadly looking at it one last time before I completely waste it by stepping it out. I get my foot over it just as my aunt rounds the corner of the house. She walks over to me and stops a couple feet away. I keep my eyes trained on the ground and silently pray that she can't smell the cigarette I just put out.

Luckily, she either doesn't notice the smell or just has more important things on her mind. She leans against the side of the house. I look up and watch her for a moment before doing the same, taking my foot off the cigarette on the ground. _Fuck it, _I think, _we both have more important things to worry about._ We both lean there in silence for a minute or two before she breaks it. "Did your dad ever tell you how much he hated growing up here?"

I look forward, staring off into the distance. I give her no response, but I don't walk away from her or this conversation, which is the most I am willing to offer right now.

Realizing that I have nothing to say to that, she continues, "He was completely stir-crazy. He wanted to get out and see and experience everything all at once. So no one was really surprised when he left practically the moment he turned 18. And no one was surprised when, some time later, he called and told us that he'd found his calling as a truck driver."

I give a small nod that could easily and probably did go unnoticed. Over the years, my dad had told me hundreds of stories about being on the road. Anyone could tell that he really loved his job, but when my mom got sick, he gave it up and got a job in the city so that he could be around to care for my mom and me. Knowing that, at one point, he did make sacrifices for us, _for me_, causes feelings of confusion and hurt to settle inside me as I try to reconcile the man I know today, the one who gave up on me, with the one from back then, who would have given up anything for his family.

Once again, my aunt doesn't wait for me to respond. "The surprise came years later when I was talking to him on one of our calls and my little brother told me that he'd met someone." She pauses a moment and I look over at her. She smiles sadly as she continues to recall the memory. "He told me that even though he'd known her for less than a month, he just knew that she was the one because, when he was with her, he felt like he was home for the first time ever." The smile on her face disappears, and I look away as my vision starts to get a little blurry. "I'm not going to try to make excuses for him, and I'm not telling you that you should talk to him or give him another chance. I'm just telling you that, when your mom died, your dad…He lost his home, and I can't even begin to imagine what that's like."

I nod more noticeably this time, letting her know that I heard what she said. I accept the reasoning behind her speech, but it doesn't change much. I always knew that my dad loved my mom. My parents had a great relationship. Growing up, I never once questioned their love or feared divorce, even when it always seemed to be happening all around me. I thought I was so lucky, and, back then, I really was. Then my mom got sick. At first, my dad put on a brave face and we learned to lean on each other like we never had before. Then my mom got even sicker. My dad started closing up, his usual care-free attitude and optimism gone. Suddenly, I found myself with no one to lean on. By the time my mom died, I didn't even recognize my dad anymore. Honestly, I'm not mad at him for falling apart. How could I be? I'm mad at him for making me feel like I wasn't important enough to piece himself back together for.

My aunt gently squeezes my arm before walking away and heading back into the house. I rub at my eyes and work on collecting myself before I follow after her. _This morning could not be going any worse_.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Time jump! Okay, so this chapter takes place three years, seven months, and two days after the last one. Just kidding! Except for the two days part. That part's true. So to sum up: _Two days later…_ Haha. Sorry. Feel free to skip these A/Ns if you aren't already doing so. EXCEPT READ THIS NEXT PART! IT'S IMPORTANT!: Thank you, readers/followers/favoriters/reviewers! You people are the most awesome of all the people (I'm guessing).

Ch. 6: The Truth Between Us

Emily's POV

It was surprisingly easy to get back into the swing of things at school, and the first half-week seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. After the final bell rang Friday afternoon, I met up with Aria, Hanna, and Spencer in the senior hallway.

"You need help setting up for the big party tonight?" Hanna asks Aria.

"Maybe. I'll let you know if I do," Aria responds, going through her mental checklist.

Hanna shakes her head, "Let Spencer know. I was just going to volunteer her if you said you did."

Spencer rolls her eyes.

"Explain to me why we're having another party? We just had one a week ago," I question.

Hanna looks at me and snidely responds, "I'm surprised you even remember that party, Em."

I give her an unappreciative look and Spencer laughs, which earns her a scathing glance as well.

Spencer throws her hands up in surrender and says, "Sorry, Em. You _were_ pretty far gone that night. You practically physically assaulted Paige with your entire body."

Everyone laughs as I cross my arms and tap my foot, waiting for the next turn in the conversation.

"And to answer your question, we're having a party to celebrate surviving our first week of senior year," Hanna states.

"Half-week," Spencer corrects.

Hanna gives her an annoyed look, "Whatever. We survived three days of our senior year and I deserve alcohol."

"Oh, Spencer," Aria pipes up, "I actually might need your help. One of the speakers has been acting kind of weird. Think you could take a look at it?"

"Maybe. I don't know when it'll be though. I have to wait for Paige. She's got that basketball practice today."

"I could stay and bring her home after practice," I offer without giving it a second thought. "You should go look at that speaker."

Spencer considers my proposition for a few seconds. "You sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not. It'll even give me a chance to check out the potential recruits," I say, almost convincing even myself that my decision doesn't have everything to do with spending more time with Paige.

"Okay. Thanks. See you at Aria's then," Spencer says to me and Hanna before our little group disperses.

I head over to the gym, now genuinely curious about the could-be-teammates' performances. I set my bag down on the bleachers and take my seat next to it. I told Paige that this was an unofficial practice, which it is, but it is one of the most structured unofficial practices you could find. The assistant coach even comes to it and runs drills with the hopefuls. I watch everyone, noticing some very talented players and some not quite cut out for our championship goals. I pay special attention to Paige, of course. Not just because she's Paige but because she's actually really good. Her technique could use some tweaking, but she's got great instincts and is making the majority of her shots. I'm impressed.

When the coach calls an end to practice, Paige runs over to me. She's wearing red shorts that go down to her knees and a gray sleeveless shirt. She's panting from the tough practice when she says, "Hey, _Captain. _I wasn't expecting to see you here."

I smile. "I wanted to check out my possible teammates' performances."

"Oh yeah? Like what you see?" she asks as she brings the bottom of her shirt up to dab at the sweat on her brow.

My eyes are instantly drawn to her stomach, and I let myself watch a couple beads of sweat travel down to the waistband of her shorts. I take a deep breath and say, "I do," with the exhale. Paige lowers her shirt back down and I force my eyes to meet hers before she figures out I was leering. I clear my throat. "Um. I mean, yeah. I saw some real potential out there on the court."

She smiles and looks around. "Are you my ride too? I don't see Spencer…" I nod and she continues, "Okay, cool. I'll go get my bag and we can head out."

Once we get outside the school, we hear someone yell "McCullers!" We both turn around to see Shana walking over towards us. _Great. What could she possibly want?_

"Hey, Shana," Paige greets. I just nod once in acknowledgement, not that Shana notices. Her focus is only on Paige.

"You just leaving now?" she asks.

Sure that no one would even notice, I roll my eyes. _Nothing gets past you, does it?_

"Yeah," Paige responds, "I had a basketball practice. What about you?"

"Detention," Shana says, shrugging.

"Detention?" I ask incredulously. "We've only been in school for three days."

"Wow, Shana, you lead a tough life," Paige jokes.

Shana laughs what _has to be_ a disingenuous amount before asking Paige if she's going to be at the party tonight. Paige confirms that yes, she will be there. Shana says that she'll keep an eye out for Paige. Meanwhile, I'm about to lose my lunch. They say their goodbyes and Paige and I start heading to my car again.

I unlock my car and get in the driver's seat. A second later Paige is in the passenger's. I start the car and almost make it out of the school parking lot before asking, "So how do you know Shana?" I glance over at Paige who smiles goofily, seemingly lost in a thought. I clench my teeth at the thought that Shana can make her smile like that.

She looks over at me, that obnoxious smile still on her face, and tells me that they met at the gas station and they talked about Shana's band and what brought Paige out to South Dakota and—_God, I didn't ask for their whole backstory._

"That all sounds really great," I say, cutting Paige off from telling me about a funny comment Shana made about having another Hastings in town.

Paige seems to get the hint because she stops talking and furrows her brow at my curtness. "Is something wrong?" she asks me.

_Yes. Something's wrong. _"No." Paige looks at me skeptically. "I just don't know that you should be spending time with Shana," I say, glancing back and forth between Paige and the road.

"Why not?"

"Because, well," I start, trying to find the right words, "because she's gay." _Shit. _Those were most definitely _not _the right words. "And, I mean, you wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong impression about you, right?" _Shut up, Emily!_

I glance over at Paige who looks like a stretched rubber band about to snap. Her jaw is tensed and she keeps compulsively stretching her fingers out and then closing them back into fists. _Oh my god. What if she hits me? _I pull off to the side of the road _just in case _and stare out the windshield, not knowing what to expect.

After a moment, Paige speaks up. "What if it wouldn't be the wrong impression?" she asks in a voice that is a lot calmer, more controlled than I was anticipating.

I keep my eyes straight ahead. "What?"

"What if I was gay?" she clarifies.

I cautiously turn to look at her. "Are you?"

I watch her closely as she considers her answer. "Would it matter to you?"

It would. It would matter a lot to me. Not in the sense that I would judge her for it. It would matter because it would clear up all these strange feelings I've been having lately. _Or just make them a hell of a lot more confusing… _Paige shakes her head disappointedly and I realize that I let too much time pass since she asked her question. "No! No. It wouldn't matter to me." It was a lie, but it truthfully answered the question she was really asking. Paige looks a little unsure about whether or not to believe me but doesn't say anything. Silence soon settles in the car. Confident that the threat of being punched is no longer existent, I pull back onto the road and continue the drive to the Hastings'. Things are already awkward, so I decide to go for broke. "So, you're—"

"Yep."

"Do the Hastings—"

"Nope."

I nod my head, considering all the new information. _Paige is gay. _My mind is racing with the potential implications. _What does this change? Everything? Nothing? _All the lingering glances, the small touches. All the times I thought she was flirting with me, but I told myself I was crazy; that she was just being friendly. _And my dream. _A warm feeling spreads through my body at the thought that the dream is no longer an impossibility. _What do I want this to change is the better question. Everything._

First things first, which means damage control. I pull into the Hastings' driveway. As Paige's hand moves to unbuckle her seatbelt, I reach over and rest my hand on her arm. She gives me a questioning look and I take a deep breath. "Paige, about what I said earlier…"

"Emily, it's fine."

"No. It's not fine. I don't know why I said…what I said. Shana and I have never gotten along, but it honestly has nothing to do with her being gay. I just used that as an excuse because I didn't want you to be friends with her. It was really dumb and I'm sorry. I don't want you to think I'm…that I would ever judge you for being who you are."

Paige smiles at me and squeezes my hand before taking off her seatbelt and exiting the car. She raises her eyebrows at me and throws out an "Are you coming?" before closing the door. Knowing that we're going to be okay and I didn't completely fuck this up fills me with joy. I quickly get my seatbelt off and jump out of my car, jogging to catch up with Paige.

We walk through the Hastings front door together and Paige starts to head up the stairs. She stops halfway up and turns around to face me. "I just have to take a quick shower and grab an overnight bag. Then we can go. That okay?"

I smile and nod my head, keeping my position at the bottom of the stairs.

"You can come upstairs and wait in my room," she says, tapping her finger on the banister, "if you want."

_Oh, I want. I definitely want. _She starts heading up the stairs again, and I take two steps at a time so that I'm caught up with her by the time she reaches the top. She chuckles at me and leads the way to her room. I try to tell myself that being in Paige's room shouldn't be any different from being in Hanna's or Aria's or any other friend's room, but there's no denying that this _feels _different. I don't know what Paige is, but she's definitely not just a friend. I've felt a connection to Paige from the moment I met her. I've felt safe in her arms when she was a stranger. She's the inhabitant of my thoughts and dreams. So being in Paige's room _is _different. It's unsettling. Exciting. I know that nothing _will_ happen right now, but something _could _happen. Paige is here. I'm here. There's a bed a few feet away. _Paige's bed. _I walk over to it and slowly run my finger over the comforter for a second or two before turning and sitting down on it. Paige is at her dresser, her hands in an open drawer, but her head is turned to look at me behind her. She's watching me. I scoot up farther on the bed and place my hands behind me, leaning back and _maybe_ pushing my chest out _just a little_. I try to keep the deviousness out of my smile but am finding it nearly impossible. It doesn't matter. Paige's attention is very clearly not on my face at the moment. I quirk my eyebrow and clear my throat, trying not to smirk as Paige's eyeline snaps up to meet mine. She smiles nervously and turns back to rifle through her dresser, grabbing the clothes she's going to change into after her shower. She starts to walk out of her room but turns around in the doorway. "So I'll be back in a bit," she states unnecessarily.

"Okay. I'll be here."

She nods and backs out of the room. When I'm sure she's far enough down the hall, I collapse onto her bed and start giggling. I like nervous Paige, and I like being the one making Paige nervous.

Something suddenly occurs to me and I sit up. _I'm in Paige's room. Alone. _I scamper off the bed to start looking around. Now, I don't want to be some creeper with no boundaries, so I set some ground rules before I go off on my search. My ground rules turn out to be very similar to those from when I used to play the game 'I Spy.' Anything is fair game as long as it is in plain sight; meaning no opening of drawers and no moving stuff around. Satisfied that no major violations of privacy will occur, I start exploring. I can tell that Paige hasn't spent much time unpacking. Most of her stuff seems to be in three boxes and one overstuffed duffel bag on the floor. Luckily, the boxes are open so I peer into the first one. A pair of headphones, along with some CDs, movies, and books. I read as many of the titles as I can without breaking my rules, then move onto the next box. Box number two holds a bunch of art supplies. A case full of shading pencils, what seems to be almost an entire store aisle worth of spray-paint cans, and a few sketchbooks that make me curse my rules because I would like nothing more than to look through them right now. Before my curiosity gets the best of me, I move onto the last box. A photo album, some random knick-knacks, and—_Oh my god. This is too perfect. Rules be damned, _I think as I grab something out of the box, holding it in front of me and grinning from ear to ear. I settle myself back on Paige's bed, sitting up against the headboard and impatiently waiting for Paige's return.

Fifteen minutes later, Paige comes back in some ripped jeans and a tight tank top that does nothing to hide the toned stomach underneath. It's almost enough to make me forget about the thing I'm hiding behind my back. _Almost. _

"How was your shower?" I ask.

"Just your average shower. You know, hot. Wet," Paige says as she looks at me and wrings out her wet hair with a towel.

My breathing speeds up for a little bit before evening back out. Apparently, Paige used her shower time to compose herself. I smile. _Good. It's more fun this way._

"You should have told us that you brought a friend here from New York. I'm sure the others wouldn't mind if you brought him along to the party," I say, trying to keep a straight face.

Paige looks at me like I'm crazy. "What are you talking about?"

"Your friend. From New York. You know, gray, about this tall," I say holding my hands out to horizontally measure out approximately a one-foot 'height,' "likes seafood."

A hint of recognition crosses her features, and she walks towards box number three and looks inside.

"Looking for this?" I ask holding out the old, raggedy shark stuffed animal.

"I see you made yourself quite at home in my absence," Paige states walking over towards me. "I mean, going through my stuff…Give me that!" she quickly reaches out to grab the shark out of my hands, but I laugh, shoot my right arm out and away from her, and hold my other arm to her shoulder to keep her at bay.

"Not so fast," I say through giggles. "First, tell me his name."

Paige mumbles something incoherently. I raise my eyebrow and tilt my ear towards her. She sighs and says, "Puppy. His name is Puppy."

This sends me into another fit of giggles, which Paige smiles at. After I come back to my senses, I hold the stuffed animal back out in front of me and say, "He doesn't look like a 'Puppy' to me."

"Yeah, well, I was two when I named him and it was close _enough," _Paige's arm darts out at the last word, successfully grabbing Puppy from my hands. I don't put up a fight this time. I just watch Paige cradling and looking at her _Puppy _as if she was silently asking if I had hurt it while she was away. _Adorable._

"You better not let Hanna find out you have that thing."

Paige feigns hurt and pretends to cover Puppy's 'ears.' "And why not?"

"Because she's still holding out hope that you're some kind of badass. I'm afraid that this would just crush her."

"I _am _some kind of badass," Paige states, carelessly tossing poor Puppy over her shoulder and raising an eyebrow as if to say 'see?'

_Could she be any cuter? _"Whatever you say, Paige."

"Seriously. I'm a total badass. I cut tags off mattresses. I enter through automatic doors clearly marked 'Exit' and exit through ones marked 'Entrance.' I reply to emails that say 'Do not reply to this email,'" she lists while counting them off on her fingers. I cover my mouth so that my laughter only escapes through my eyes as Paige leans in and softly continues, "And when I'm feeling particularly inclined to badassery, I unalphabetize the books in the Hastings' study."

I pretend gasp. "So you're a badass with a death wish?"

She smiles at me and shrugs. "What can I say? I just like to live life on the edge," she states coolly, still leaning over towards me. Our faces are close. Really close. _I really wouldn't have to lean very far to—_I snap out of the thought and swing my legs over the side of the bed towards Paige, causing her to jump back a little.

I stand up, seeing Paige smirk at how flustered I have become. "We should probably get going to Aria's. Don't want to keep them all waiting."

"No. I suppose we don't," Paige agrees. "After you," she bows slightly and holds her arm out towards the door.

I toss out a shy "Thanks" as I hurry past Paige, down the stairs, and out the door. _Everything is definitely changing._

A/N: Sorry about the double notes, but how many of you thought Paige's gray, foot-long, seafood-loving 'friend' from New York was _something_ other than a stuffed shark? Shame on you. If you don't even understand this note, then congratulations. Your decency is a light in this dark, grimy world.

Or maybe I just really need to get some sleep...


End file.
